


Crunchy Angst

by thedepartedsweetly



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:13:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedepartedsweetly/pseuds/thedepartedsweetly
Summary: It’s that bite of 87 fix w some crunchy angst
Relationships: Michael Afton/Jeremy Fitzgerald
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	Crunchy Angst

Jeremy was getting rather used to his routine at the hospital. Wake up, lay there, ignore the searing pain, eat lunch, try to forget the rest, sleep. It was fine. He was…fine. Sometimes his father came to visit. He’d be hard pressed to find a reason why, but his father's presence always made him extremely uneasy. His mother never came to visit, but for some reason that didn’t bother him.

There was no calendar in his room, he had no clear idea of how much time was passing, but one day an orderly came in with a bright smile. “You’re getting visitors today!” Jeremy wracked his cloudy head but could not think of a single person who’d want to see him.

The man who came into the room was not his father. He was not anyone Jeremy immediately recognized, but he felt eerily familiar, and it made his chest ache. 

The man was short and skinny, a little scruffy looking and covered in bruises. That would’ve concerned Jeremy more if it didn’t feel so _familiar_.

“Hello…Fitzgerald.” The man said, sounding embarrassed. Jeremy wracked his brain. This man was so familiar, he could _remember_ seeing him in school. But the name evaded him. 

“Hey.” He said, flatly. “You can uh… sit down if you want.” The man stood perfectly still seeming uncomfortable in the sterile hospital environment. Jeremy felt like he was supposed to say something. “I don’t remember your name. I’m awfully sorry about that.”

“Michael.” He said.

“Michael…” Jeremy repeated. “… _Michael_.” A small smile crept onto his face, he squashed it. 

“Well…I uh…just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Michael said, twitching. He seemed very nervous. “And you are so I’m gonna go.” Jeremy raised his eyebrows, a bit surprised.

“Okay? I’m missing a large chunk of my brain.” He snorted. “No one will talk to me, they’re afraid I can’t understand them or something. You’re the first person my age I’ve seen since I woke up.” 

“Yeah but you’re alive.” Michael grunted. That sentence was loaded with a painful story that Jeremy didn’t want to parce. He turned to leave.

“You can call me Jeremy. You know.” Jeremy called after Michael. He didn’t stop walking.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

-

Michael came back, a couple days later. Jeremy still had no calendar despite multiple requests for one. “Come to make sure I’m still in one piece?” Jeremy asked mockingly.

“I’ll leave.” Michael threatened.

“No!” Jeremy yelped. He hated the rather self satisfied smile that crept onto Michael’s face. “Ugh…fuck you. I’m so bored.”

“I figured.” Michael replied, shrugging off his jacket. “So I brought this for you.” He practically chucked the book into Jeremy’s lap. “You still know how to read right?” 

“Yes.” Jeremy grumbled. 

“Amazing,” Michael said sarcastically. “I didn’t think you knew how to read before this.” 

“We weren't friends, were we?” Jeremy sighed, glaring at the book. It was about football, game theory or something.

“No. We weren’t.” Michael muttered.

“So why’re you here?”

“Cause I’m not an asshole?”

“Debatable.” 

-

Jeremy had a dream. Or rather a memory that came in the form of a dream. It was about Michael of course. A lot of things were about Michael these days. He blamed it on the fact that Michael was the only person to visit him. 

It seemed to trigger other, very confusing, memories. For example, he remembered fighting with Michael. That made sense, the guy was a dick and he probably deserved a little knocking around. That wasn’t the confusing part.

The confusing part was the other memories. The ones where he and Michael were just sitting together, almost in solidarity. The ones where he stroked Michael’s hair away from his forehead, careful to avoid the large cut. The ones where Michael held his hand tightly and didn’t let go even as they stood up to leave. Those felt tender, almost intimate. Those were weird.


End file.
